


Fighting Shadows

by SuperRobotOpossum



Series: Fighting Shadows [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Fear, Giant Robots, Robots, Soul-Searching, Transformers - Freeform, Transformers bayverse, bayverse Transformers, transformers live action movie, transformers movie 2007
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperRobotOpossum/pseuds/SuperRobotOpossum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place a year after the events in the 2007 Transformers film.<br/>Bumblebee, once a warrior, is now the sworn guardian of the humans Sam Witwicky, and Mikaela Banes, living in the suburbs, and adapting to the ways of humans and to a life without war. </p>
<p>But the placid life of peace has lost it's charm for the Autobot, as his mind is focused on a growing void in his spark, that has come to consume his very thoughts. A void that he can not fill, nor can escape from, and is so desperately trying to find a solution to. </p>
<p>But a solution to a problem is seldom ever easy to find, and seldom comes without a price...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-discovery kind of story. Overcoming personal demons, and what-not. I came up with the concept several years ago (after the 2007 TF film to be exact), and have only recently started typing it down.
> 
> I do not intend to make it a very long fan-fic. Am thinking maybe 5-10 chapters long.
> 
> This is the first "actual" fan fic I will have posted on the internet. I am a bit apprehensive sharing it, but I can't just let it sit around in my hard drive, now can I?

 

He gazed up at the night sky, eyeing each distant star momentarily before moving onto the next one, subconsciously making shapes and patterns out of the various formations. He often did it when alone, and lost in his own thoughts. It helped clear his mind and allowed him to think more productively. It was over a year ago since that fateful day he landed on earth’s soil. Over a year since he made his first trans-scan and befriended a native of this planet. Over a year since the destruction of the greatest threat this planet had met with as of yet, and the greatest threat of the Autobots had been annihilated. Over a year since it started…

He blinked after what had seemed like ages, averting his gaze to the horizon as his thoughts began to voyage into less than savory territory. His metallic brows furrowed in frustration. In the past looking up to the stars always gave him a sense of comfort, even in the darkest of times. But lately it just seemed to make his mind wander and dwell on topics he would much rather forget about. The stars no longer gave his mind freedom; instead they just seemed to further cement it into the cesspool of emotions and thoughts that clouded his perspective lately. 

He uttered a sigh, resign hung heavily on his breath. He watched as it turned into a white puff with the meeting of the cold air before submitting into the void. It was starting to get cold again. He didn't really like this “winter” as the humans referred. True he drifted through millions of light years through the cold void of space without much of a problem, but somehow that journey was far more tolerable than this season of snow, chilling winds and icy streets. Or maybe it was just him. He groaned, suddenly feeling discomfort from the crouched position he had assumed for Primus knew how long. Carefully he eased into a sitting position, so that only his feet just barely poked out of the garage doorway. Absently he stared out at the streets and houses flooding his view. It was pretty quiet tonight. A few cars passed on occasion, or a stray cat would dart across a yard, but not much else had been happening.

In the recent months he had regained his voice completely. He still had moments where it would fail, or sound static, but overall he sounded the same as he did before Megatron crushed his vocal components, back on Cybertron. He was happy about that. It made communicating a lot easier now that he didn't have to filter out key words from radio broad casts just to form a paragraph, or revert to using gestures, and expressions to communicate his thoughts. He had conversations with Sam often whenever they were out alone, or with Mikaela when she was around. He was able to bond with them on a deeper level, actually. He shared stories of his time in the war, and made jokes, and friendly small-talk. It was also nice to be able to converse with his fellow Autobots again, even though they were too busy to talk to him lately. Ever since the Decepticons assaulted Mission City, the U.S Government had made arrangements to pair their military forces with the Autobots, creating the Nonbiological Extraterrestrial Species Treaty, or the more simple acronym, N.E.S.T. 

Many Autobots had replied to Optimus Prime's deep-space transmission and had made their way to earth, seeking to rejoin their brethren and continue to serve. Decepticons would follow suit, seeking to fight in Megatron's name, even though their leader had fallen, and was now rusting at the bottom of one of earth’s vast oceans.

He shook his head. He wish Sam were here. He was always good for company, and always seemed willing to take a cruise when the yellow bot was eager to stretch his servos.

But Sam was out with Mikaela tonight. Bumblebee would have taken them as he always had, but recently after they had been participating in the ritual, humans referred to as “dating” for a few months, Sam had gradually grown uncomfortable with a Transforming, Alien Robot transporting them around for some reason, and had opted to borrow his father‘s vehicle, or would ask for Mikaela to take him in hers, and always had an excuse handy to keep Bumblebee from being their escort. He queried Sam about it at one point, but the human just looked up at him awkwardly and would quietly mutter “You know…”

“No, I don’t know?”

“Well, you see.... Me and Mikaela are taking it to the next level…”

“The next level?”

“Don’t Cybertronians ever…?”

“What?”

“Never mind… look, it’s just that me and Mikaela are at an evolved state in our relationship, and right now it’s best if you aren't around…”

“Are you performing mating rituals together?”

The human turned red-faced and walked away quickly, leaving the mech to decide his assumption was correct.

He cared about Sam, but the human was weird at times, and the gap created by their differences in culture, and species made it hard to communicate about certain things. In fact lately he felt the carbon-based life form was growing distant from him. Sam cared, Bumblebee knew that, but he just seemed distracted, and disinterested in being around. Lately the scout was left in the musty garage alone with his thoughts. And that was when it would start up. That strange, empty void that formed over a year ago. He tried to pawn it off as boredom, or perhaps depression from the stagnation of sitting around in a garage, like a disposed T-cog. But it kept growing, and eating away at him from the inside out. He would try to purge himself of it by driving out in the dead of night, distracting himself with something amusing, or staring out into the vastness of the sky, like he had been tonight, telling himself each time, that it would go away. But despite his denial, despite his efforts to pacify it, he knew that this wasn't the result of his recent routine of long pauses and lack-a-daisy weeks, and he knew that it wasn't going away. This void had started long before this, and had been biding it’s time patiently in the back of his processors. He had known it was there, but he kept it at bay by distracting himself with his new life on earth and with his new human relationships, taking in the scenery and the experiences. It was waiting for when the euphoria of his new-found lifestyle wore off and would work it’s way into his conscious, expanding, and eating away at him, like the Scraplet virus.

He desired to consort his closest comrades, Optimus Prime and Ironhide about it, but with all that had been going on, he refrained. They had enough to think about, without him thrusting his problems onto their backs, so he sought help from Ratchet.

He wasn’t as close with Ratchet as he was with Ironhide, or Optimus, but he viewed him as a friend, and felt comfortable enough to share his feelings. That, and he was a medic. Bumblebee’s issue may have not necessarily been something one could fix with some replaced screws and bits and bolts, but he was suited to be of some form of support for such problems.

“A feeling of emptiness… It can start with one thing and evolve…” The Medic stared intently at the Scout wordlessly for a moment before speaking again.

“War… it tests us, and forces us to make choices and decisions we’d rather not make. I've seen some pretty terrible things… and done some pretty terrible things; my cause the only justification. I know you have too. We all have…” 

He averted his gaze ahead of him.

“You can’t endure that sort punishment for as long as we have without it affecting you- without it changing you.”

He wasn't looking at Bumblebee while he spoke, but the Scout could see the sadness in the Medic’s optics. It was a deep sadness.

Ratchet blinked and looked back at the yellow bot, the emotion in his eyes gone with shutter of his bladed lids. It shocked Bumblebee a bit at how well he managed his feelings. Years of practice he guessed.

 

“This emptiness you feel…” the Medic began “ … it is something that won’t just go away. It’s a wound in our sparks that we all have to live with.”

“But, why does it haunt me now? Why, after all of these decacycles?”

“…… Because for the first time you aren't concerned with staying alive. You aren't struggling to get through a day with all of your servos attached.”

The scout was about to say something but stopped. His eyes darkened, as Ratchet’s words revealed an answer that should have been so clear before. The elderly bot gazed at him for a few moments, watching it sink in. When he felt he had allowed him enough time he continued.

“In stories they always make it sound like after a war ends everyone lives happily and contentedly, as though the war never occurred, and it is so ridiculously unrealistic…. The sad truth is, the war is never over. Not in our hearts. Even after it ends, we as soldiers still are fighting. Except our memories are the enemy, and our minds are the battlefield, our souls the victims. All we have done is fight, and now… for the first time we are experiencing peace, or at least something resembling peace, and we don‘t know how to handle it, because war has become apart of our programming.”

He smiled with bitter irony. “We have fought for peace… and now we have it, or something resembling it, at least… and we can’t live with ourselves. It’s an ugly cycle.” 

Bumblebee took this in and was silent for a moment longer, processing the Medic’s words.

“…. What can I do?” 

“…. I’m afraid I can not answer that; we all function differently, so we all find solace in our own way.”

“What do you do to manage it?”

Ratchet looked down thoughtfully.

“…. I try to find comfort in the present… In small moments. I look around me, and at all that we have accomplished and overcome, and find new meaning and purpose in things. It doesn't fill the void, but it helps make it more tolerable to live with.”

 

 

He growled under his breath, as he returned to reality, and fidgeted uncomfortably. This wasn't doing him any good. He needed to get out, just for a while. An hour. A few minutes- any amount of time would suffice.

Quietly, and somewhat awkwardly, he converted into his alt mode, metal clicking, and snapping into place neatly. His engine hummed roughly. The cold weather was hard on his internal components. He kept his headlights off, he didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention to himself. It wasn't like he was doing an injustice by going out alone, he was entitled to. But whenever he went out alone Bumblebee preferred it if no one knew of his leave. He treasured having some form of his life be left private, however small a margin of it may remain private anyway.

Quietly, slowly he descended the Witwicky driveway, and into the street, savoring the rough concrete as it rubbed against his wheels. He picked up speed the further away he got. The current of air picked up and beat against his plating. It was cold, but felt invigorating, in contrast with the heat of his engine. He could see the flickering lights of the city ahead. He was pushing 70 now, and climbing.

With a burst of unbridled strength he flew from the confines of the neighborhood and swerved sharply, headlights blaring, turning down a lane, and kept building speed, like a galloping stallion, to where, he did not know, and almost did not care. 

Sam warned to be mindful of his speed often. But at the moment he did not care about how fast he was going. It was late, and there was hardly a vehicle in sight; only the streetlamps bared witness to his act of rebellion against the system. It was moments like this where he felt free of everything. These moments of complete, unhindered, unrepressed bursts of speed, these moments of taking a chance, these moments of possibly displeasing someone else for his personal need to express himself was what helped make that dull ache ebb. If he could, Bumblebee would have drove forever- across the whole fragging world even.

As the thrill of his outburst faded, his speed lowered to a more acceptable momentum, his engine thrumming powerfully. The lights of the street lamps danced across his frame as he passed under each one. It was hypnotic in a way. Soothing. What was it about the night that brought such calm upon him? Was this what Ratchet meant about him finding his own way of peace? Was this it? He gazed out into the mysterious darkness ahead, welcoming whatever it had planned for him, and for whatever lay in wait for his coming.


End file.
